ukulele us

Me and 850 of my close, personal friends broke the world record for playing in a ukulele ensemble on Saturday. It was the fun!

the jaws that bite

Off sick from work, 7thsyndikate entertains, or frustrates: not sure which. Am I going to be somewhere on the 24th? In a meeting with my boss, I expect. How very, very tiresome.

A ukulele ghost from my past surfaces. Who knew I had a ukulele ghost? I have been pursued for several decades, apparently. Not by the ghost, by the ukulele, silly. Nanny's charm bracelet has a uke on it too. It catches on my jumper.

I keep knitting, and unknitting. I am restless. Send help.

swarm!

there ain't no insanity clause

There are twelve yellow ukuleles sitting in my living room.

Twelve ukuleles is a lot of tuning. I can say this quite confidently, even though I have thus far tuned only six. I shall have to keep tuning them over and over again now for a week at least before they remain even vaguely in tune for longer than an hour.

It's going to be a long week. (How can it be longer than the last?!)

The last taut strings of my sanity have obviously snapped: I am starting an ukulele club at school.

*twang*

still

It's half term, and the sun is trying to shine.

I might walk to the library.

I might buy Indian snacks.

I might bake bread.

I might play my ukulele.

I might finish my knitting.

I might look for a new job.

I might take some pictures.

I might feel better.

achievement

I am the number one Google search result for 'ukulele knitting'.

I am faintly proud.

potential

The scarf is growing. It is about as long as a scarf that is a bit too short, and I may well finish it by the weekend. I am going away for the weekend, to a place where knitting would be a Good Thing to do. I want to knit something else: a shrug, another scarf, a bag, my Etsy fortune.* I must find something else to knit, and some wool, no, yarn by the weekend.

I spend long hours perusing free knitting patterns and online yarn-not-wool shops. I stare at patterns, squint at the pictures: could I make that? My eyes slide over the passages filled with jargon I do not fully understand: bind off, shape, yarn over, right side. These details do not concern me. There is so much potential; it reminds me of a time when I would contemplate the un filed steel edges of etching plates and imagine the myriad opportunities for brilliance ahead. Never mind the slow inevitable slide into a mediocrity that generally followed; the potential has always been the best bit.

I am liking the knitting (I haven't yet tried the purling). I confess that I am wondering about knitting an ukulele.

*say it often enough and it might come true.

you got to pick a pocket or two

A group of girls huddle around me in the playground; and to take our minds off the wind and the puddles underfoot I ask about their Christmases: were they good? What did they get?

They all agree that it was good, and they got good things. They tell me about their upcoming holidays, and then one asks me: what did I get for Christmas? My mind goes immediately blank. Ermmm...what did I get for Christmas? I know I had presents, I know I liked them, what the flipping eck were they? I dredge about in the muddy pool of my memory.

I got an ukulele book, and a book about criminal children, I tell them. Oh, and some cake tins. They look distinctly unimpressed, so I look at them very seriously and tell them that 150 years ago children of their age could be put in prison or transported, for very minor things such as stealing spoons, or bread. I do not mention the death sentences, the cruelty and futility of penal punishments, or the degradation that meant many children were relieved to get into jail so that they'd be fed and clothed for a while.

Edith looks at me suspiciously. 'That doesn't mean you can lock us up', she says.

'Doesn't it?' I smile, 'What a pity. Someone go and get me the bell.'

days when I ain't spotty

I am feeling a bit sorry for the person who found this blog by searching 'January 2008 reasons to be cheerful'. I know that feeling. I have been there done that.

It would be too obvious to suggest getting an ukulele (though...)

Might I suggest cooking something for yourself from a recipe: perhaps a nice healthy soup, or if that isn't your idea of cheering yourself up (I am strangely cheered by health food, particularly after a week of debauched living such as we have mostly all just had) something with a lot of saturated fat in it. Cheese straws, for instance (more fat than flour!).

Further to the soup/cheese straws I suggest spending at least an hour on the phone to someone nice.

Failing all the above, I find a bloody good cry works wonders, or at least aids restful sleep.

PS I have no idea why I suddenly started posting, either, but suspect that the holiday may be the key. Here's hoping for a better term than the last one. That would indeed be a reason for cheer.

simply taking and not giving

*cough*

Really dull, this is...

*cough*

One can only practise the ukulele for so long before getting sore fingers, I find. Much surfing of the internet ensues. Sometimes a bit of drawing. I've drunk so much tea that I'm back to the cheap stuff. The fact that I only realised this today and I've been drinking it for four days says something about my cold-ridden taste buds. It tastes foul, but I guess that means I'm getting slowly better.

*cough*

There's this new blog: Valium Sandwiches. It's anonymous, but I definitely recognise that sense of humour. I hope it continues beyond a few days, but you know what these teachers are like.

*cough*

My cough mixture tastes of treacle?

could she, could she, could she coo?

I am not really skiving, I have a cold. Fortunately it is the kind of cold where words will still come out of my fingers, although the mouth is having trouble and tears are far too easy to come by. Don't be too sympathetic, I'll be better by tomorrow I expect and I'm getting to sit about in my dressing gown and slippers which is most enjoyable.

Having nothing whatsoever to say, I naturally decided to post here. I suddenly felt like it. Hello.

Have you got yourself an Ukulele yet?

If not, the next best thing to do would be to get yourself a copy of my lovely friend Andre's book 'If You're Happy and you Know it' . It's not that good for strumming or singing along to*, but it comes a very close second and I highly recommend it.

*admittedly I haven't tried, but I promise I will do before the day is over.

woof

Just up to my neck in un-bloggable work stuff, I'm afraid. That and the fact that I now feel the urge to keep my private life actually private, and have not the time or inclination to write about it through the filters I used to use.

In other words, I'm too busy getting on with it to blog about it. Does this mean I'm all growed up? (Of course not.)

I expect I shall be back in a more regular sense at some point. You should still buy an Ukulele. Buy one for yourself and one for your friend. You know it makes sense :)

ukulele me

Wobbling up the road from the station on the way back from an evening in a cellar bar I focus on a couple in front of me. They are arm in arm, one with a guitar case slung over his shoulder and the other swinging what looks suspiciously like an ukulele bag. I am forced by an unseen hand to speed up a little until I am level with them. I eye up the case trying to decide if it contains what I think it does. The thought of someone else in my town playing the uke is very exciting. My staring shows, and I meet the eyes of the bloke with the guitar.

Dare I?

After two bottles of wine? Of course dare I. 'Is that a ukulele?' I ask
'No, it's a t------,'(I can't remember, Its all gone a bit hazy). 'It's a sort of small guitar' says the lady carrying it.
'Cool!' I say; the mistress of intelligent conversation.
'I don't play it,' says the woman, 'I'm carrying it for Jim.'

I suddenly remember that I am in London and should therefore not be having this conversation. Instead of asking the them to tell me more and finding out where he's been playing, asking them round for tea sometime and making them my new best friends like I really ought to, I smile, speed up, and continue wobbling up the road in front of them. I am a bit rubbish.



Thanks to Unreliable Witness both for the tune and the means to post it! :)

bound by wild desire

Ukulele Flash!*

I spent some considerable time last night playing with this. For those of you not ukulele obsessed enough to click (what's wrong with you?!) It's an offset of the Dulwich Ukulele Club, and includes play-alongable tracks. With a pdf of the chords, and everything. Which is very exciting when you've only been playing along with yourself in your sitting room, honest.

It confirms for me two things which really I knew already. Firstly, I need to find some people to play with asap, because I suspect it will be double the fun and I would learns lots; and secondly my strumming is a bit rubbish and I need to practice. This is probably bad news for my right wrist, but maybe it'll take the pressure off my left thumb which currently aches like buggery.

In other news: I now possess a nail punch set (a set, fer chrissakes!), and spent a considerable amount of time yesterday with my nose pressed against my bedroom floorboards. This close examination led me to visit the carpet shop this morning. Who knows what will happen next? It's anybody's guess, frankly.


*This post contains mass potential innuendo. I tried to avoid it but gave up. Life's too short and I have strumming practice to consider.

this is an old song

My goodness, it's amazing how much better music sounds when you aren't having to kick the speakers or fiddle with the jack every five minutes. The addition of an extra bass speaker has added a whole new dimension as well. Funny, that. The speakers were absurdly cheap too. I expect speaker purists would turn pale green if they knew what I'd bought. Purists of all natures make me nervous, so I shan't be entering into discussion about them. I am happy with my new speakers, They work, and everything.

Following the previous post I think I've slowly come to the conclusion that a couple of weekends are to be spent on my hands and knees banging in nails and filling gaps with sawdust/glue mixtures. Notice that I gloss over the sanding issue: I'm still putting off the actual hiring of machines, as I can't quite face a weekend of hell right now.

In other news: I have just found an active ukulele blog. What's more, it's an active ukulele blog with Joanna Newsom chords. This is probably more exciting than it really ought to be.

do anything twice

Ukulele flash!

Side-effect of no TV? More Ukulele. Side effect of more ukulele? Blisters on fingers. Achy thumb.

I have found online a series of chord progression exercises, which has made me happy (and sore). This surprises me given the many years I spent avoiding doing piano scales. Ain't life strange.

Also - another visit to the Duke of Uke confirms it as London's most unwelcoming shop (perhaps it's my face). I am tempted to set up a rival, friendly shop where people greet customers and engage in conversation about stuff of an ukulele nature rather than refusing to make eye contact and playing ear-splitting Lou Reed tunes. Maybe she had a hangover..

faith in wordless knowledge

an afternoon's entertainment
Originally uploaded by etcher67.

(sneezing x runny nose) + ukulele playing = sore fingers

I always have to fight the temptation to extrapolate the slightest problem into a world-shattering catastrophe. To call this a bad habit is an understatement of epic proportions. Getting my camera back without having to pay for its repair is one of those rare pieces of good fortune which buoys up the growing evidence that I don't necessarily have to jump off the cheerful cliff. Maybe I can stand on the edge and waver a bit, and everything will turn out OK. It's a nice thought.

(I'm not sure how convinced I really am, to be honest; which is why it seems important to write it down.)

maybe he's crying for me

Ukulele update!

The ukulele obsession continues apace, and I am now suffering from a lesser-known disease called 'Ukulele thumb'. My left thumb hurts sommat awful at the bottom joint. This might be the result of unaccustomed ukulele neck grippage, or it might be something much more serious and indeed fatal. Only time and bad renditions of Patsy Cline numbers will tell.

Apart from that, I'm struggling with buzzy chords. I know this is because my fingers are touching strings they oughtn't, but I'm rubbish at correcting it. How chaps with big fat fingers cope is beyond me. I did this very evening form the idea that the problem might be the result of playing too quietly, though. As a result of this I should like to apologise to my neighbours, especially the ones who brought me biscuits back from Argentina (not cake, but Oh So Close).

Apart from that, and the growing suspicion that I may not be an Ukulele prodigy and might in fact be a bit crap, I am still thoroughly enjoying myself and urge you all to buy Ukuleles right away now.

coming clean

I am busy wearing grooves into my fingers with a newly acquired ukulele. One of the many excellent things about this instrument is that it is possible to play it (I use the term loosely) whilst lying on the sofa, a position of which I am very fond. I also discovered only this evening that it is possible to fall asleep whilst laying on the sofa holding an Ukulele.

However (I am pretty sure one should never begin a sentence with however but I am going to throw grammatical convention to the wind) I have interrupted my important groove-wearing and sleeping in order to impart breaking roof news. Mr Damp Man has just been around and applied his instrument in my front bedroom thoroughly, and although his careful poking revealed that my damp place is even wider than initially anticipated, his final conclusion was that 'you have already cured the problem'.

Mr Damp Man will, therefore, always have a very special place in my heart. He also said some very technical stuff about the wet and the inches, which being a girl I understood completely but cannot be bothered to inflict upon innocent passers-by. You should thank me for this, as it was less than interesting, I assure you.

Also, I am in a very Excellent mood as I am going on holiday on Saturday. I am not entirely sure how I shall survive the intervening days but I am fairly sure that laying down on the sofa wearing grooves into my fingertips will feature.